Prices one has to pay
by SheyRicci
Summary: Dean has always had to pay a price for anything going his way.


Dean looked up at the night sky and sighed. It didn't seem possible, but the night seemed to have passed what should have been its last hour of darkness, and yet the sky was still inky and dark, no clouds, no stars, just blackness. The storm had passed, meaning the thunder and lightning, along with the driving rain had stopped, but the wind still whipped and howled and made the night miserable for any soul unfortunate enough caught out in it.

Of course the storm hadn't passed while they had worked to re-enforce the only bridge that led across the now raging river and down the mountain side. No, they'd had to ignore the storms fury while standing knee-deep in water that was ice-cold with a strong current doing its best to knock them off their feet and sweep them down river.

Dean didn't know about the others, but he was weary, bone deep weary. The night spent felling trees with an axe and dragging the fallen branches and limbs to the water's edge to support the bridge had taken its toll. He had dug coffin size holes since he had grown taller than the shovel required to dig. About eight years of age, he guessed, and his muscles were well accustomed to the physical demand of digging, his back, arm and shoulder muscles were as defined and strong as any man's physique that spent countless hours pumping iron in a gym.

He didn't tire easily, was physically fit and had the training to endure any abuse his body could be put through, his father had seen to his endurance. Yet, his legs were shaking and his shoulders strongly disagreed with the motion of raising the sledge-hammer over his head yet again to pound another tree limb into the muddy river bank.

"Okay, that's it." Bobby threw his shovel and climbed up the bank. "If she goes, then she's going, ain't nothing more we can do to stop her."

"Think she'll hold?" Sam asked surveying their work with a critical eye.

"Hard to say." Bobby replied. "But I'm beat, so we're done."

Luke, the seventeen year-old kid caught out in the wilderness with the three hunters didn't wait for another word. He eagerly dragged himself out of the water and flung himself down onto his back in the mud. Dean rested against the handle of his sledgehammer. Bobby had held up well for a man of his age, Luke was just a kid, more accustomed to video games than strenuous activity and Sam, Dean's equal in strength and stamina, was favoring his left side with such skill Dean was sure Bobby hadn't even noticed.

"Agreed." Dean was the last to leave the water. He shouldered his sledgehammer and made his way up the river bank to more solid ground. He rested against a tree to catch his breath before after the others. It was near a mile walk back to the cabin they'd been lucky enough to come across while following a lead on their latest hunt into the wilds of South Dakota. They trudged along in single file silence; Sam in the lead, Dean bringing up the rear.

Dean eyed Luke who stumbled along in front of him, the kid hadn't complained or acted out, had done what he'd been told to, pitching in with whatever he could to help without once giving an attitude. His mother, well, she was a different story; had been left at the cabin.

Dean supposed he was grateful she hadn't been a hysterical mess but her utter silence wasn't a welcome relief either. He guessed she suffered from shock; it wasn't unexpected when one was chased by an unknown creature that was neither human nor animal.

Dean cursed, kicking at rocks, deliberately lagging further behind so he could wallow in much deserved self-pity without the others knowing. He was as tired and wet and cold and hungry as the rest of them and wanted to be warm and dry and curled up in front of a fire with a mug of vodka laced coffee. But as usual, as always, what he wanted would have to wait.

A fire needed started, water fetched and heated, wood gathered and carried in, chopped if there wasn't any already cut and food to prepare should they be lucky enough to find any in the cabin, game to be hunted should he have his usual luck and find the cabin cupboards bare. Sam needed tackled and wrestled and forced to submit to Dean looking him over for any injuries; at least for the reason he favored his left side, a kid to console, there was Bobby to argue with and oh yeah, and emotionally fraught female to do, well, something with.

"DEAN!"

He heard his name being yelled from what sounded like a distance and brought his head up. He'd lagged so far behind the others that Sam was heading back towards him.

"Go!" Dean waved him off. Sam stopped but waited where he was for Dean to catch up. "Just thinking.

I'm good." he told Sam who pushed his mop of wet hair out of his eyes. "Cabin should be close."

"Bobby and Luke are probably already there. I came back to see what was keeping you."

"Sorry, I .." he frowned, sniffing the air. "You smell that?"

"What?" Sam asked taking a deep breath. "Uh. No, you…wait, is that smoke?"

"Smoke!" Dean confirmed, breaking into a run, convinced the damn fool woman had set the cabin afire. Sam kept up with him and together they rounded the last bend in the path and…..ran over Bobby and Luke who had stopped to inhale the wonderful scent of burning wood, knocking them both face first in an undignified sprawl into the mud.

"Umphh!" Bobby grunted, spitting mud from his teeth. "What…the…hell…." he spluttered "Get offa' me, you clumsy oaf!"

Sam pushed himself up to his elbows, then his palms before finally gaining his feet. He caught his breath before extending a hand to give Bobby assistance in standing.

"Sorry." he helped Bobby scrape mud from his arms and shoulders. "Sorry!"

"What the hell you running for? Or it is from?" Bobby demanded irritably. He'd figured he couldn't be any more wet and muddy than he'd been before. He'd figured wrong. "You ass!" he wondered where the boys had found the strength to move at such a fast pace 'cause he couldn't imagine them having the inner stamina to run.

"We smelled smoke." even to his own ears that sounded lame.

"My mom." Luke raised his face from the mud; it was in his eyes, up his nose, in his ears. He was still spread-eagled on his belly, had yet to recover his breath from being smacked flat by 160 lbs of running wall. "More than likely, she started a fire." he attempted to gain his hands and knees, but was too exhausted to hoist himself up and he gave up, deciding a bed of mud bed wasn't so bad after all.

"To do what, burn the cabin down?" Dean straddled the sprawled form at his feet and bent over to grab hold of Luke under each arm and yank him from his mud hole. "Sorry there kid." he patted the kid's shoulder after setting him on his feet. "You good?"

"No harm." Luke wiped mud from his face with dirty muddy hands but at least now he could see. "And no, not to burn the cabin down, to heat it."

"She knows how to light a fire?" Dean said doubtfully. "You hurt?" he looked around for the sledgehammer, unable to recall when or where he'd dropped it.

"Doesn't everyone?" Luke shook himself like a wet dog, flinging mud in all directions. "Let's get inside."

"Everyone what?" Dean asked tiredly, deciding he could do without the sledgehammer.

"Come on." Sam could judge Dean's mood. His brother was out of patience and it was time to encourage him inside. "Let's get outta this wind."

The cabin had a front porch, and they reached it as a group, huddling underneath the roof while the rain let loose and came down in driving sheets. The wind drove the rain on to the porch, its roof offering little protection as they kicked off their boots and shed their coats. They got no further, the door opened and Olivia blocked their entry into the cabin.

"Oh no, you don't." she announced in a no-nonsense tone that demanded immediate obedience. "Not one foot inside this cabin in those wet, muddy clothes."

Bobby was too stunned to argue and Dean wondered why Sam wasn't when he noticed Luke was naked. Luke dashed out into the rain to wash off the worse of the mud, wrapped a towel around his waist and pushed past his mother into the warmth of the cabin. Dean hadn't seen the kid undress and had no freaking clue where the towel had come from.

Olivia simply stood and waited for the three men to follow her sons lead. "No one gets any coffee until everyone is out of those muddy clothes and inside."

"Mom!" Luke protested with a whine. "What are you all waiting for? Get your damn clothes off already!"

Sam broke out of his stunned reaction first, pulling his shirt off over his head and Bobby followed his movements and did the same. Dean had to be prompted by Sam and then his actions were slower, the last to finish undressing and follow the men into the rain to rinse off. Finally satisfied, Olivia let them into the cabin, leaving the clothes in a pile out on the porch, telling herself she would hang them from a tree later for the rain to wash out.

Olivia had a fire burning in both the fireplace and the stove, water boiled in a pot or kettle or pan on every available surface that had a fire beneath it. The smell of beef, either soup or stew wafted through the air. Apparently, the cabin was stocked after all. The coffee was instant and there was no vodka, but it was hot and it was the best cup of coffee, Dean'd ever had. He let his gaze traverse lazily about the room. Olivia had been busy; she'd carried in enough wood to last the night and it had to have taken her numerous trips to lug in all the water she had boiling.

"There are two bedrooms in the back. Well rather one large room separated by a hung sheet; one side has twin beds, the other a double, plenty of blankets. I figure Bobby and Luke can take the bunk beds, you two care share the double bed and I'll sleep out here on the sofa by the fire." Olivia was refilling coffee mugs as she spoke. "Hopefully it will only be for one night, I'd really like to go home."

"You can have the bed." Sam offered. "Dean and I will flip for the sofa; we're no stranger to the floor."

Olivia shrugged. "Whatever, this cabin is well stocked with canned goods and dry milk, but if we're here for longer than a day or two, you'll have to hunt for meat."

"Sure." Sam nodded. "I don't like to hunt for sport, but I can for survival"

"Anyone hurt?" she looked at her son. "Luke?"

"I'm fine mom, honest, couple blisters, bruise or two, maybe a scratch, nothing serious."

"Bobby?"

"Other than a tree known as Sam falling on me, I'm good."

"And the two of you?" her gaze lingered on Dean, reading the fatigue on his face, they both nodded, more tired than anything. "Well, ok then. I'll go hang the clothes out in the rain; you all might as well go to bed."

Sam was eyeballing the sofa, Dean clearly read the desire in his eyes; Sam was ready for bed. Well so was Dean but first, he helped Olivia hang the clothes, returning inside to dry off and wrap up in a blanket. Bobby and Luke had gone to bed and Sam had cleaned up from the meal they'd all had.

"You didn't have to do that." Olivia said warmly. "But thank you for doing it, whoever raised you, raised you with good manners."

"He did." he nodded in the direction of the sofa.

"He who did what?" she asked in confusion.

"Raised me, Dean did." Sam glanced into the room where Dean had made a bed on the floor with blankets next to the sofa. "Pretty much since I was two or so."

"He can't be much older than you are. Who raised him?"

"Huh, guess he did, dad maybe. We were on our own a lot. So um, night." he ended the conversation even though he sensed she had more questions.

"Ok, good-night." she made her way to the bed in the back room and the door shut behind her.

Dean came back into the kitchen area of the cabin to finish the last of his coffee. "Hey, anything I should know?"

"Huh? Oh….ummmm, no, so, flip for the sofa?"

"You take it, you sure there's not something you want to tell me?" he waited. Sam sighed rolling his eyes.

"Christ Dean, how do you know?"

"How bad is it?"

"Dunno, it's probably nothing, there's no mirror here and I can't really see my back."

"So, you fall?"

"Not so much."

"Thrown then. Back? Shoulder? Left side, right?"

"Yeah, left side, lower back, kidney maybe." he paused. "Not too much pain."

"That's so not what I wanted to hear, let me see." Sam dropped the blanket so Dean could see the bruising with a warning not to go poking him. "Watching you throw mud outta the hole. I doubt Bobby picked up on it, you hid it pretty good. Ok, you piss blood, you'll let me know, right? No keeping shit from me."

"Sure, deal." he eyed the bed of blankets on the floor. "You sure you don't want to take the bed? I didn't ask you when I volunteered it to Olivia."

"I haven't slept with you since you were what fourteen? Floor's fine, better than what I was expecting tonight. I thought we'd be under a pine tree with needles for a bed and a wet coat for a pillow."

"So, we good? Getting a draft here." Sam pulled the blanket around his shoulders. "You ok? Do I need to hold you down and let Bobby have his way with you?" Dean gave him an impish grin, dropped his blanket, raised his arms up over his head and turned in a complete circle. "You're an ass." Sam laid down on the sofa, ignoring his smirking brother who had more blankets than he did, but then, Dean was the one on the floor, so Sam grudgingly decided maybe all was fair.

"Hey Dean?"

Dean stirred, nearly asleep. He was finally warm, his belly was full, his body was relaxed and he was quite comfortable, he was reluctant to rouse for even a short conversation. "What Sammy?"

"You hide so much, bury it all deep, and, well, I can't, not anymore. I …I can't handle you hiding something from me because you think it's for my own good."

"Sam, go to sleep, I'm fine."

"You're tired, worn out really and not just from this hunt, from everything, these past six months. I dunno, you just haven't really been yourself, you know?"

"Sam?" his tone promised violence if Sam didn't shut up and go to sleep.

"I know, I know, go to sleep Sammy."

Sam did, asleep within minutes, but not Dean, no, sleep wouldn't come. He had too much on his mind. Life was never this easy for him. He rarely caught a break and never a lucky one. Since Sam's birth, Dean had scratched and dug and fought to get what he wanted and kill to hold on to it once he had it. Life had a way of laughing at him, it mocked him, and in the end, he always paid the price for something actually going his way.

Lately, his biggest concern was Sam.

He had no idea what to do about the fact his brother seemed ok only when he was with Dean. Separate them, and Sam showed instant signs of stress, anxiety and mental meltdowns. Bobby for once, had no advice to offer, so Dean simply didn't leave Sam alone. Sure it was a huge burden to bear and it weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he'd been the one to make the deal to have Sam's soul retrieved and restored against everyone's advice and that was the price he had to pay.

He'd made the decision and he would live with it. After all, whatever the price, his brother was worth the stress. He'd carried the fate of the world on his back for a year, had allowed his brother to sacrifice himself to save it, if he could live through that, then he could bloody well manage to find a way to help his brother deal with separation anxiety. Let someone tell him there wasn't enough alcohol in the world to get him through this, he'd show them differently.

"Anyone awake?" Bobby asked softly, needing more to see them than any need to see if either were awake.

Sam gave a sleepy snort, and Dean though awake, remained quiet, waiting for Bobby to go back to bed. If Bobby felt the need to check on them before he could go to sleep, well, that was just fine with Dean. Good ole Bobby, Dean thought with a fond grin, it felt good to know someone was checking on him.

His grin faded as reality came home. Finding shelter in the storm that offered everything they needed: food, water, warmth, fire, blankets and add to that, the fact no one was seriously hurt and that meant whatever price he ended up paying, would cost him dearly. Something went his way and the next thing he knew, he was emotionally torn asunder. He caught a break and he was stripped bare and flayed until all he could do was down a fifth of Jack and find a way to rebuild his walls and come out fighting.

Had he any inkling of what the price was going to be, he would have happily bedded down under that wet pine tree without complaint.

***000***

Bobby glanced at caller id on his home phone. He really wasn't in any mood to talk to anyone about any problems, be they personal or job related. He was tired; he'd just recently shaken a cold that had hung with him for nearly a month. He blamed it on his hike through the mountains and being caught in the storm. Whatever the reason, he wanted to spend more time nursing his cold, just for a while longer. Had it been anyone else, he would have ignored the phone, but he couldn't bring himself to let this particular call go to his answering machine.

"Dean? What's up?" he wasn't expecting to hear Sam's voice. "Sam? Is this you? Calm down, I can't understand a word you're saying." he tried to listen, tried to sort out the garbled, rushed words Sam was sprouting at him in rapid succession. "You aren't making any sense, now stop yammering and start over, go slowly this time."

"It's worse Bobby, he's worse, it's every day now, nearly all the time, it just keeps getting worse."

"What does? Sam, what are you drinking? Where's Dean? Is he with you?" Bobby knew Dean didn't often leave Sam and if he did, it wasn't for long, never more than an hour. Sam didn't do well if Dean was out of his sight for any longer than that. "Where are you?"

"The motel."

"Where? In what town? Name the state?"

"Hell, I dunno, does it matter? Bobby, I don't know what to do!"

"I can't help you until you start making sense, now where is Dean? Put him on the phone and let me talk to him."

"I can't!" Sam shouted. "Aren't you listening to anything I've told you!?"

"Stop yelling at me Sam. I don't know what bee flew up your ass, but kid, you're trying my patience here."

Sam took a deep breath, glancing over at Dean who was sprawled in bed on his stomach and, for the moment, quiet. The room was dark, the only light coming from the bathroom whose door was partially ajar. The room would be completely dark, for Dean didn't like light, but Sam couldn't stand the dark. There was no noise in the room; no TV, no radio, phones set to vibrate. As long as all was quiet and Sam didn't ask Dean to move, Dean was able to sleep.

"Bobby, I don't know who else to call, I don't _know _what to do. I'm freaking out here. He won't talk to me, he says he's fine, but he's not. He gets worse every day. I took him to a clinic and they sent us to a hospital. He refused to go, but I dragged him there, I made him submit to every possible test they wanted to run." he gulped in a breath and rushed on. "I let them take blood. I forced him to spend the night for observation. I signed for cat scans, MRI's, x-rays, and sonograms. You name it, he had it done. There's no concussion, no skull fracture, no swelling, no bleeding, no growths, no tumors, no nothing! Everyone keeps telling me he's fine, but he's not!"

"Now, Sam…..see here….you…" Bobby began.

"I dragged him to a dentist and an eye doctor. I had him tested for alcohol dependency, illegal drugs and prescription drug abuse. I had them test for lead paint, and carbon monoxide poisoning. I thought maybe it was some kind of withdrawal. They stuck him with needles and stuck tubes in him, down him and up him. They put tubes in places I don't ever want to have a tube Bobby!"

"Calm down, son." Bobby tried again.

"I've choked him with holy water and gagged him with salt. I've cut, stabbed and poked him with silver, iron, brass, Ruby's knife and every kind of wood I know about. I've chanted at him in Latin and in six other languages and some of them, I don't even speak! I held him down and made him recite the Latin ritual back to me, and all it did was make him run from me like he's scared of me."

"Do you blame him?" Bobby exclaimed incredulously. "You've drowned, stabbed, choked, exorcised and smothered him!"

"Yeah, and nothing, Bobby, so if it's not medical and it's not supernatural, what the hell is it?"

"Start at the beginning Sam, where is Dean anyway? Close by I assume?"

"Yeah." Sam was perplexed Bobby would even ask such a question. Where the hell else would Dean be, if not with Sam? "He's asleep."

*** several weeks ago ***

"Dean, you ok?" Sam glanced for the third time in less than a minute at his brother who was rubbing his forehead yet again "Another headache?" still, he thought to himself, or again, whichever.

"Yeah," one of the worst headaches he'd ever had, and he'd had a lot over the years. He hadn't said anything to Sam, but he'd been having headaches quite often lately. He didn't think Sam had noticed but he should have known his brother would have picked up on his discomfort.

If nothing else, no one could deny Sam wasn't observant, so when Sam's look said 'still' Dean simply sighed and dropped his hand. At first, he blamed his current headache on driving into the sun, then decided it was because he was hungry, not having eaten much for breakfast but he was beyond caring what caused it. All he wanted was some aspirin and a quiet dark place to lay his aching head.

"You've had them a lot lately." Sam commented off-handedly, trying not to sound accusatory.

"Just need some aspirin Sam."

"Uh-huh, look we passed an exit sign some miles back that said there were motels next exit. Why don't we pull in for the night, see if you sleep it off? Can't hurt and we aren't in any hurry to get anywhere. We have the cash." Sam waited, hoping Dean would agree, yet scared that he would for that would mean he really didn't feel good. "We can eat at a diner, you can find a bar to hustle if you want, or just find some company."

Dean glanced at his watch. It was still early, not quite six o'clock. Dinner and bed met with his approval yet he was reluctant to agree for fear of upsetting Sam. As the exit came closer it didn't matter what Sam thought, black dots were dancing on the edges of his vision and his peripheral vision was non-existent. Either he gave up driving or he would be driving them into a ditch. Well, he could ask Sam to drive. Ha! He wasn't stupid and he knew that continuing to drive would be suicidal so when the exit came, he took it.

Sam wisely kept his mouth shut, booking the room at the motel so Dean wouldn't have to get out of the car. They both entered the room and Dean took the time to wash his face with cool water and pop four aspirin before leaving with Sam to go eat.

"Here, you drive." Dean tossed him the keys, knowing Sam was looking at him with concern. "I haven't had a headache like this in…well, never. Don't fuss Sam, you asked me not to hide anything from you and I'm not, but that doesn't mean I'm giving you free rein."

"For now." Sam agreed. "Maybe you're just coming down with the flu or something; aspirin helps so you're good."

***000***

Aspirin didn't help for long. After buying every over-the-counter brand of aspirin Sam could find, he found Excedrin migraine aspirin helped the best. When Dean got a headache, their lives stopped until the medicine kicked in and he slept it off.

Concerned, Sam voiced his feelings several times, but didn't push until Dean pulled over while driving and asked Sam to drive. That freaked him out; it seemed the headaches were getting worse and were coming more often with more symptoms. Dean became sensitive to light, sound and smells. All he wanted to do was lie down in the dark and sleep it off. He didn't want to eat and only took the migraine aspirin when Sam begged him to.

Sam finally made the decision to head to Bobby's and Dean argue, didn't even bother to start out driving. He never asked Sam for the keys, both were afraid he would be unable to pull over in time should a headache turn bad.

"Dean, you need to see a doctor." Sam said at the end of his patience. He was no longer annoyed, he was scared. Dean just grunted in response and turned onto his stomach. Sam sighed, he knew what that meant. If there was ever a belly sleeper, it was Dean Winchester. "Fine." Sam muttered.

They were in a motel for the night. Sam wasn't tired and could have continued to drive, but riding in the car only made Dean feel worse. He did better when stationary and horizontal, so Sam stopped without discussing it with Dean. Sam had hoped that Dean would argue and insist they keep going but he hadn't and that only made Sam worry more.

"I'm g out for a bit," Sam didn't get a response, so he left a note and headed out to a local bar to see if he could score some easy cash playing pool or darts. He wasn't too sure about leaving Dean alone and he still didn't like being away from his brother for any length of time so he didn't stay out long, just over an hour. He took back dinner from a local diner, but Dean still slept so he ate alone and crawled into bed to watch TV.

"Hey, wake up." Sam came out of the bathroom the next morning, surprised to see Dean still in bed and asleep. "Dean? Hey, come on, we gotta check out, get up. I left you plenty of hot water. Dude? Seriously, enough, you've slept all freaking night." he felt a surge of annoyance, he knew Dean didn't feel good but he was getting tired of doing all the driving, eating alone, talking to the radio for company and worrying about their dwindling cash. He felt it was time for Dean to stop wallowing and suck it up until they got to Bobby's.

"Dean!" he gave the mattress a hard nudge with his knee. Dean stirred, murmuring his disagreement. Sam sighed, not in the mood for Dean's grouchy attitude. He leaned over the bed and reached out to yank the blankets, hand actually gripping the blankets, wrist in motion…..when the world ground to a halt.

Dean flinched.

Sam caught his breath, light-headed as he tried to gain his balance from being thrown for such a shock. In all his years, with all that he had done, Dean had never so much as tensed when Sam reached out to touch him. Now he flinched, he fucking flinched and it was from Sam, his brother of all people, that he flinched away from. Sam dragged in his next breath, not sure he could release it, his hand let the blankets go and he backed away from the bed, not sure what to do.

"Dean?" his voice was husky and he cleared his throat "Hey? You awake? Dean?" he extended his hand slowly, not wanting to startle Dean who had yet to open his eyes. He swallowed hard; there sure were a lot of lumps in this throat lately. When Dean didn't move, Sam carefully took hold of the blankets again and pulled them away from Dean.

Dean cringed, ducking his chin down into his shoulder with a soft whimper. Sam felt, for the first time in his entire life, he was going to faint.

"Oh God." Sam's legs refused to support him and he sank down on his own bed. He couldn't do anything except sit and stare at Dean who was now beginning to stir, missing the warmth of the blankets. Sam felt as if he'd been beaten in the belly with a 2x4; he couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't accept that his brother had avoided his touch, had acted like Sam was going to hurt him

"Hey." Dean eased onto his back, stretching with a yawn. "You shower already?"

"Ummmm, aah, yeah, you ok?" his voice cracked and Dean raised his head from the pillow to look at him.

"Dude, are you crying?" Dean frowned. "Sammy? What's going on?"

"Nothing, so um, if you're feeling ok, let's get going. You hungry?"

"I can eat."

Dean was having a good day, eating a decent breakfast and offering to drive for a while. Sam didn't even respond to that, thankful they had nowhere to go, had all the time to get there and no jobs had come their way. Well, perhaps one or two had, but he hadn't answered his cell or Dean's and Dean hadn't asked after his phone for over a week. Sam hadn't actively pursued a job either; he hadn't even booted up his laptop or picked up a newspaper.

They'd been on the road roughly two hours when Dean got quiet, turned the radio down, and slouched down in the seat to lay his head against the window. Sam kept glancing at him, noticing the changes as they happened, he grew pale, dark circles appeared under his eyes, his breathing grew labored, and he winced with every bump in the road. Dean didn't bother to hide how he felt from Sam. He didn't have the strength to pretend he didn't hurt. Sam pulled over and got a bottle of water and two Excedrin migraine aspirin. He silently offered, Dean silently accepted and Sam pulled back out onto the road.

No words were spoken, none needed to be.

"Pull over." Dean groaned so thickly Sam hadn't been able to decipher what he said. "Sam, pull over." the words, now clear, were spoken with urgency.

"Why? What now? Dean, really? Didn't the migraine meds help?"

"Nauseous." Dean managed to say, stomach heaving, and hand already on the door handle. "Saammm…"

Sam pulled the car to the side of the road without another word. He thought Dean just needed fresh air or a moment to sit without moving so he was completely unprepared to have Dean open the door and crawl out of the car.

"DEAN!" he put the car in park and got out to walk around to Dean's side of the car. "What the hell…?" he shut up, holding his hair off his forehead with both hands, and though he turned his back to give Dean some privacy, he didn't move away.

Dean didn't manage to gain his feet. Once he no longer had the car to support his weight, he crawled over to the grass where he promptly lost his breakfast in the weeds. Sam stood nearby; chewing his lip then retrieved a bottle of water from the backseat of the car and offered it to Dean.

"You good?"

Dean rinsed his mouth and spit. He sat on his hip for several minutes then gathered himself to gain his feet. He looked around for something to use as support but nothing was nearby, nothing but Sam. Sam ignored the hand Dean held out to him, and squatted down behind him, rising to his feet and pulling Dean to his feet, hands under Dean's armpits for leverage. He expected Dean to come at him with a smart comment but to his shock, Dean relaxed against him.

Sam didn't know what to do. Dean trembled in his grasp, not at all steady. Sam could feel him shake with just his hands on his brother's elbows so he gave him time to collect himself. He didn't push him away, letting Dean move away when he was ready.

Wishing he was facing Dean so he could see his face. Sam recapped the water bottle. "Dude, you are so scaring the shit outta me right now." Sam followed him back to the car.

"Whatever."

Sam had dealt with enough shocks for one day, he couldn't handle another: Dean flinching and cringing away from him with a whimper, allowing Sam to help him to his feet….. no, _asking _for Sam's help, not pulling away once he was standing, asking Sam to drive, taking aspirin without argument, stopping at a motel every night, not looking for a job or asking about his silent cell phone, sleeping undressed and under the blankets, picking at his food, only ever really eating a good meal at breakfast, allowing Sam to cling and fuss without the sarcastic comments and accompanying eye roll. Everything to do with Dean's behavior within the last two weeks had been uncharacteristic of Dean.

Sam sighed, rubbing his eyes as took a moment to gather his frayed nerves. He swore, then and there, that if Dean did one more out of the ordinary action; Sam would scream. His hands stilled in mid-rub, watching in mind-numbing disbelief as Dean opened the back door of the Impala, crawled in and lay down on the back seat.

A bird echoed his cry of frustration and Sam didn't even get back to the car before he googled the nearest hospital location on his smart phone.

*** current day ***

Bobby was both impressed and surprised Sam had actually been able to get Dean to see a doctor, and later go to a hospital where he submitted to tests. The fact that Dean had gone without a fuss and tolerated Sam's attempts at self-diagnosing had Bobby both worried and scared.

Experiencing those four emotions all at once, made for a very stressed-out Bobby. Add to that, the fact that Sam was frantic and nearly hysterical and Bobby's stomach tied itself into a knot. Sam did not scare or fluster easily. What the hell was happening to Dean that was freaking Sam out so much that he was forcing Dean to have head scans at a hospital? And why the hell was Dean allowing it? What the bloody hell was going on?

"All-right Sam, just tell me where you are, if you can't come to me, I'll come to you, but first you need to tell me where you are." he hoped they were close, at least within a nights drive; they'd been coming to his house, so he figured they couldn't be too far away.

"Hell.," he searched for motel stationary or the room key. "Um, somewhere in Nebraska."

Good, Bobby thought, neighboring state. He wrote the name and address of the motel as Sam read it to him. They were a hell of a lot closer than he'd expected. "Okay Sam, I'll be on the road in half an hour. Dean still asleep? He doin' ok?"

"Guess he's okay." Sam said tiredly; he wanted a hot shower, cold beer and bed.

"I didn't ask if he was ok, I asked how he was doing. He_ is_ with you, isn't he?"

"Um." Sam took a deep breath, pacing the space between the beds, wondering once again where Bobby expected Dean was. He ehld the phone with one hand, the other tangled in his hair atop his head, holding it out of his eyes. "Yeah, he's here. Guess he's doing okay."

"Boots off, undressed, under the blankets?" Bobby counted to ten. Sam could be so dense at times, right now though, he needed something to do to calm down, and make him feel better. Dean's usual method of sleeping was to fall face first across the bed, fully dressed with one hand clutching his gun or knife under the pillow. "Sam, I get that he hasn't been feeling good. I know what a pain in the ass he is so just do what you can to make him comfortable. Lose his boots, get him to get undressed and take some aspirin and get into bed, can you do that? Take his gun away too, his knife if he has that, then I want you to take a hot shower and go to bed."

"Okay, ok, sure." as long as Dean didn't fight him, he could manage to do what Bobby suggested. "See ya." he disconnected and tossed the phone. "Right."

Dean didn't want to move so when his foot grabbed and lifted, he protested with a soft whimper and slight flinch. He wasn't all that comfortable, but he wasn't cold or in pain, the world no longer spun out of control and his stomach was much happier without the motion of the car. As long as he lay still, he was able to tolerate the headache that left his vision blurry and him so light-headed he was dizzy and he didn't appreciate Sam fucking with that.

"Relax, it's me." Sam winced at Dean's reaction. He eased off one boot, then the other. Dean didn't stop him, biting his lip and sitting up when Sam ordered him to. He shrugged out of his coat and his long-sleeved denim shirt but there was no way he was going to raise his arms over his head and he laid back down before Sam could suggest taking off the t-shirt, muttering dire threats to be performed on a future date when he felt Sam's hands on his shoulders. "Sshh, arms up."

Dean thought about opening his eyes to level Sam with a look that would make him feel guilty but he lacked the gumption to do even that. Hands that were not gentle pushed at his shoulders until he eased onto his back to avoid bruising. His arms were picked up one at a time and sleeves were tugged and pulled over his wrists until he was bodily lifted from the mattress and a fresh smelling shirt came down over his head and the sleeves worked up his arms. He waited until he felt the shirt fall to his waist then tried to lie down, wanting to curl up and bury his head under the pillow.

"No, no, whoa, hold up." hands stopped his movement. Dean slapped irritably at the closest arm to him "Dean, stop."

"What now?" he slurred sleepily, tears were dangerously close.

"Pants."

"Sammy, go away. I swear I will find the strength to hit you if you don't."

"Take your jeans off."

"No," but he knew he was going to have to. He was all too familiar with that tone of Sam's. If he didn't do what Sam wanted, Sam would simply do it for him and he wasn't up to a wrestling match with anyone, let alone Sam. He sighed, now irritated, standing up would set his head to spinning and he had just started to feel better. Fuck it, might as well get it over with. Sam always got his way and Dean was always the one letting him have it. He knew he'd been scaring the kid lately and he sure as hell didn't want to, but he couldn't help it, he'd been feeling that badly.

Gritting his teeth, he slid to the edge of the bed and swung his legs to the floor. He accepted Sam's offer of support and managed to stand long enough to unzip his jeans, slide them off his hips and step out of them. He didn't wait for Sam to think of something else for him to do. He collapsed on the mattress and turned away, eyes closed. He felt hands pushing at his hip, tickling along his ribs and he scooted away, rolling, crawling to the other side of the bed to get away from the pushy hands. A blanket covering his goose-bumped covered flesh was the last thing he remembered.

***000***

Sam opened the door when Bobby knocked. Bobby took one look at Sam's haggard expression, bloodshot eyes and tousled hair and he gave him a hearty hug.

"Hey Sam." Bobby pushed past him into the room, stopping to stare at the sight that greeted him. He was speechless, all he could manage to do was remove his hat, run his hand through his hair and replace his hat, three times before he could wipe the expression of, 'if-I-didn't-see-it-with-my-own-eyes-I-wouldn't-be lieve-it', from his face.

Dean Winchester, _the_ Dean Winchester, a formidable foe, and a man you didn't want as your enemy, a well-reputed, feared and respected hunter of things all evil was at this very moment curled up in bed, hugging a pillow. Snuggled, yes, _snuggled _up to his ears in the blankets, sound asleep. Bobby turned, open-mouthed to look at Sam then turned back to stare at Dean. Dean didn't sleep. Ever. He didn't go to bed; he collapsed - as was - when his body wore down and demanded respite.

When that happened, Dean would nap maybe four hours, five top; Awake and alert,if a light on or a door opened or a voice that hadn't been there when he'd fallen asleep spoke. But now, now he slept; he hadn't moved when Bobby knocked, or when he'd entered the room. There was no rapid eye movement behind closed eyelids, his deep, even breathing didn't alter, not even a finger twitched.

"He's asleep." Bobby said in awe. "I never thought you would get him to go to bed Sam. Even if you did, I didn't expect him to go down without giving you one helluva fight, but….."

"Yeah."

"Did you get any sleep? You look like shit Sam."

"Yeah, well, one of us had to stay alert. I mean, I've taken all the necessary precautions to hide us, but none of that works against humans."

"There's a Denny's a mile back. I'm gonna go get you something to eat, breakfast you think? I doubt you much feel up to a steak, you want some pancakes? You like pancakes; they serve breakfast 24/7."

"Sure, whatever, coffee though." he reached for his wallet and handed Bobby a fifty.

"Keep it, dunno when Dean will feel up to hustling for more, course you could…"

"I did, cash was getting low; we're okay for now."

***000***

The motel room had a couch, so Sam gave his bed to Bobby and spent the night on the sofa. Dean was quiet, still asleep, but Sam couldn't relax or let himself cease worrying. He never knew how Dean would feel in the morning. He'd eaten most of the meal Bobby had brought back, more to please the elder hunter then to satisfy hunger and a fully belly and relief over no longer being alone with Dean eased his tension just enough that he finally slept.

Dean woke the next morning to the smell of hot coffee and bacon. It took him several minutes to realize he was undressed and in bed. He was warm and comfortable and loathe to get up and greet the day.

"Morning there sunshine." a cheery voice rang out from across the room. Cheery did not define Sam yet Dean felt neither alarm nor panic. Sam was nearby and Dean knew without knowing who was with them that it was someone they knew and trusted. Sam wouldn't let anyone else in the room.

Dean flopped over to his back, rubbing sleep from his eyes with the backs of his hands as he yawned and stretched. He scratched at his chin, musta been a couple of days since he'd last shaved, his jaw was itchy.

"Breakfast! Scrambled eggs, toast and hot coffee." Bobby watched him wake up.

"Coffee?" he sat up, and crawled out of bed, no longer quite so reluctant to leave it now that coffee was hot and plentiful.

"How you feeling?" Sam asked quietly afraid to hear the answer. "You're going to eat? Seriously? You're hungry?"

Bobby looked Dean up and down, taking his time and taking a complete visual physical. He didn't see anything wrong with the boy at all. He hadn't lost weight; there was no sign of fever or pain, no broken bones or stitches. There were a few cuts on his arms courtesy of Sam but not a bruise or a scratch on him. There was no sign of a fight or any kind of violence. He moved easily and normally, no stiffness, no limping, no favoring an arm or a shoulder, his back or his side. Bobby couldn't determine one thing that could be wrong with Dean, certainly nothing to cause Sam's previous night's panic. Hell, he wasn't even pale!

"So, someone wanna fill me in?"

"Guessing Sammy called you." Dean sighed. "Dunno why, I keep telling him I'm fine." he joined Bobby at the table, reaching for the cup of coffee that was calling his name.

"DAMMIT DEAN!" Sam's coffee mug hit the wall, breaking upon contact, hot coffee and ceramic chunks causing both Dean and Bobby to duck. "Stop saying that! You are not fine! I'm not blind, I'm not stupid and damn you, I am not over-reacting! There is something wrong with you and I don't care what everyone says, I don't care what everyone tells me, I don't care that every test imaginable has come back negative, something is wrong and I won't stop until I find out what!" he was shouting, having lost what little composure he'd had and he didn't care.

"Sam." Dean began carefully, unsure of Sam's current mood.

"He was yelling at me last night." Bobby said. "He been yelling a lot?"

"Don't. … don't …. 'Sam' me, …..you don't get to do that, just … no ….."

Bobby caught Dean's eyes who shrugged. Sam's meltdowns were common these days, but thankfully, they were also short.

"Sam, I've humored you. I went to the hospital, and all the doctor's say the same thing - migraines."

"You keep saying you're fine but you're not and you know it. You say it for my benefit but you don't believe it any more than I do. I don't care how long it takes, I DON'T CARE what it takes, whatever it is, I WILL find it." he was still shouting. "Migraines? Since when? Why now? You've never had one in your LIFE!"

"Sit down and talk to me." Bobby kicked a chair out from under the table that he and Dean sat at. "I won't take sides Sam. Dean, stop picking on your brother and let him tell me why he's so convinced you're not ok."

Dean opened his mouth to argue but Bobby's swift kick to the shin silenced him.

"You let him take you to the hospital Dean." Bobby nodded. "Sam, he willingly had an MRI and you know how much he hates being confined so whether he was humoring you or not, he believes you have a reason to act this way. If he truly thought you were over-reacting and that he was fine and nothing was wrong, there'd been no way you wudda gotten him to go a hospital and have all those tests and you know that."

Sam sat down, but was shaking his head, staring at the spilled coffee and broken mug. "He's more scared of me splitting in two."

"That's probably true." Bobby conceded. "Even so, there are other ways around you than to give you your own way."

"Such as?"

"Calling Cas and having him feel Dean up, inside and out."

"Hey! Eww" Dean protested. "So not ever going to happen."

"Shut up." Bobby ignored him. "Nothing more from you, I want to hear from Sam, go on."

"He started getting headaches after the hunt in South Dakota, no nightmares, just headaches that aspirin eased. They started coming more often, lasted longer, sometimes light and noise or smells bothered him, other times, none of it did. Some days he could sleep it off and function normally. There'd be days he didn't get one at all. He'd be himself, drive, play music, look for a job, clean his guns, pack ammo, work on the car, you know, be smart mouthed and annoying. After having such a day, he'd spend the next one knocked off his ass. Excedrin migraine help the most and trust me, I bought every kind of aspirin out there. I didn't start freaking out until he was so eager to get a motel room and go to bed instead of hitting the nearest bar for booze and women that he suggested it. I didn't panic, until… he asked me to drive, I didn't even offer."

"Never do that again.' Dean snorted spreading jam on a piece of toast "One minute I'm laying down in the car, next, we're at a freaking hospital."

"Clinic." Sam corrected. "They sent us to the hospital." he turned on Dean. "You got sick in the car, you crawled into the back seat and laid down, you never do that."

"Never will again either," he gave Bobby his trade-marked shit-eating grin. "Who knew? I had a headache, I wanted to lie down, didn't know it would result in a speedy trip to the nearest medical facility. Sheesh."

"So now, sometimes he gets sick and vomits, other times, he doesn't. He doesn't seem to like riding in the car, the nausea appears worse then. Sometimes, he keeps water down, most times, he doesn't." Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "I've researched everything both medical and supernatural, nothing, no lore on bites or poison or spells or hexes with those symptoms. And now? There the son-of-a-bitch sits, eating his freaking breakfast, having a good day, making me look like some worried, overset loon prone to panic fits."

"Does he ever pass out?"

"No, he can function with a headache, unless we are in the car. So, I had him checked for motion sickness, had his ears checked, his equilibrium is fine,"

"Dean, does you vision blur? Ears ring? Do your hands shake? Any muscle spasms?"

"Not all the time, Dr. Singer, but yeah, world gets blurry."

"Of course, he never gets a headache when I can get him to a hospital. One doctor we saw told me to test his reflexes and motor skills while he was suffering a headache. The tests are simple; they're like the ones administered to people under suspicion of driving under the influence. He can walk a straight line, he can balance on one foot, he can hold his arms out to his sides, close his eyes and bend over. He can meet my hands palm to palm and exert force. He can make a fist and hit his target. He can take both feet and kick against my hands with enough force to knock me off-balance. What he can't do, is hold his head up without crying about it."

"Sam, we will get to the bottom of this, he'll be fine. We….well, he went through this with you, you figured it out then, you will now."

"Bobby, he never _just_ asks me to drive, I have to bully him into it. I know when to offer, know when he's had enough and is ready to give up the wheel. He's an ass but he isn't stupid. He's never asked to stop for the night. Of course, he's usually driving and just pulls off the road and uses me as the excuse. I dunno, he makes me feel like I do when I make him fly. He's miserable on a plane, but it's nothing compare to this."

"We will hole up here for a couple of days; see if he goes down while I'm here."

"K, sure, whatever."

***000***

Bobby sat outside the motel room on a picnic table drinking this third beer, forced to admit several things: Sam wasn't exaggerating, he wasn't some worried, overset loon prone to panic fits, he was well within reason to freak out and panic; Sam had researched and covered angles Bobby hadn't even considered, had left no rock unturned in his quest for answers; Bobby was as mystified as every doctor the boys had seen; Dean was not faking.

The boy was miserable and there was no evident cause for his suffering. He was either fine or he was flat on his back in bed. Each headache came and went with different symptoms or none at all. There were headaches that aspirin eased, and some that the migraine meds eased, others nothing touched. Those were the headaches that made him sick, made him cry, made him curl up and hide beneath the blankets

If they were in the car, Sam had to pull over so Dean didn't vomit in the car. There was no waiting to find a safe place to pull off the road. If he managed to keep down a bit of food, he had a prescription that made him sleep and when he woke up, the headache was gone and he felt better. However, he could only take it with food; his reaction the two times he tried to take the meds on an empty stomach made Sam cry. Dean wasn't eager to go through the relentless retching and dry heaving again anytime soon, so the new motto was; food good, no food bad.

No matter what he ended up taking to try to ease a headache, he was left groggy and sluggish. Bobby called everyone he knew for advice, opinions and guesses. He got nowhere. Now, here he sat, outside, alone, having just put Dean to bed and unable to watch him suffer anymore.

Three days traveling, and they were still in Nebraska. Sam was at the store, the day wasted, Dean never agreeing to get in the car. Their plans to drive on cancelled that morning when Dean woke up pale and shaky, and within five minutes, on his knees in the bathroom.

And so the day had passed.

Dinner hadn't been well received either. Bobby helped him back to bed and settled him with a cool cloth on his forehead that did nothing for Dean, but made Bobby feel better and he was outside to engaging in some self-pity. He knew Sam expected him to have answers yet he was at a loss.

Sam wasn't doing too well himself. Emotionally, the kid was wiped out and it was only a matter of days before he crashed and burned. Bobby wanted to go home. Maybe once they were back at his house, he could find something in one of his books. It was the only option left to him and he had to take it or risk Sam's mental health permanently becoming damaged.

"Bobby?" Sam was behind him. "What are you doing out here?"

"Ain't gonna lie to you Sam, he's down."

"Bad one?"

"Cried himself to sleep clutching his head."

Sam said nothing, just stood with his hands in his pockets staring up at the sky. He silently turned and walked away, heading to the parking lot and the only source of comfort he could get. Dean was reluctant to seek the company of the Impala but Sam was in need of something solid to lean on, both physically and emotionally. He seated himself on the hood and laid back against the windshield, staring up at the sky. He didn't need to speak, just needed to mentally voice the words and wait.

"Hello Sam." with a gentle flap, Castiel was in front of the car.

"Cas." Sam didn't move, didn't open his eyes, still not quite believing Castiel had responded. "Hey, wasn't sure you could hear me, or would come."

"I will always come if I am able, do you have need of me? I am rather busy; you might recall that there is a civil war raging as…"

"Yeah, I know, sorry, I didn't want to bother you, but Dean's not doing to good, he, um…."

"Is he hurt? Where is he?"

"No, no, well, least we don't think so."

"We? Who is we?"

"Bobby's here."

"You called Bobby? Before me?"

"Little matter of your war being waged in heaven Cas, don't want to bother you with our petty problems." Sam was too tired and emotionally wiped out to keep the bitterness from his tone.

"Where is he Sam?" Castiel didn't care for the tone Sam chose to voice his comments.

"This way." he slid off the car and led the way, giving Cas a quick version of the past month or so on the walk back to the motel room. "Will you be able to tell anything?"

"I don't know. I need to see him first. I can heal injuries, but some things are beyond by ability to help."

Bobby was still at the picnic table and after greeting Castiel, entered the motel room behind Cas and Sam. Castiel approached the bed and before either Sam or Bobby could voice a warning, reached out and laid two fingers upon Dean's forehead.

"Shit Cas, little warning would be nice." Sam winced as Dean jerked away from Castiel's touch, one hand searching for whichever weapon was under his pillow, the other slapping at Castiel's hand. "Dean, hey, just relax, I'm right here, it's just Cas, okay? You awake?"

"No!" he grumbled, taking a moment to orient himself. "Cas? You called Cas? Seriously?" Dean moved from the edge of the bed, pulling the pillow over his head and hanging tightly to it when Sam tried to yank it away. "Dammit it Sam, go away." he moaned, not at all in the mood to have anyone do anything to bother him. Hell, he didn't even want to move. "Lemme 'lone." he slurred sleepily.

"Then get up and do something about it." Sam finally won the tug of war with the pillow. "Tell us you're ok and prove it, just open your eyes and sit up." surprised Dean's abrupt jerk away from Cas hadn't made him vomit he wondered how long Bobby had been outside. Musta been near half an hour or so for Dean to have slept off the worst of the pain.

"Keep your hands outta me, you hear me?" he told Cas. "Can't believe you called him." he rolled to his side, his back to the three men standing next to his bed. He may have lost the pillow, but the blankets would be harder for Sam to pull away. He realized the flaw in that reasoning when Castiel palmed his forehead. Right, Sam didn't need to remove the blankets for Castiel to feel him up.

"Well?" Bobby demanded. "Can you sense anything?"

"There is pain, I do not know…..how do you feel Dean?" Castiel asked, lowering a hand to lay his palm on Dean's chest.

"Dude, remove your hand." Dean flopped onto his belly. "Sam, you will pay for this, I swear. This is downright invasive."

"Oh, you think I wanted to call him? I've tried everything else Dean, I _don't know _what to do."

Dean sighed, fingering the sheets grasped in his fist. He heard the desperation in Sam's tone, knew he was scared, knew Sam would do anything, whatever it took, to help him anyway he could. He squirmed about until he was on his back, pushed the blankets away and spread his arms out wide. "Go ahead." he eyed Cas warily, nothing and no one would ever get him to admit it, but Castiel's touch was both soothing and comforting, his headache had previously let up, but Cas's touch eased it completely.

"Relax Dean, this won't hurt, I can feel your pain with just my touch." Castiel assured him. "How long Sam?"

"Does it matter?" Sam sipped from a bottle of water. He wanted whiskey but his stomach wasn't too keen on the idea. He hadn't been eating good and while alcohol wasn't helping his physical well-being, it did help his mental state, it was just he couldn't hold his liquor these days.

"I just want to know how long he's been like this so I can ask why you didn't call me earlier?"

Sam put the water bottle down and went into the bathroom; he didn't say anything but the slamming of the bathroom door spoke clearly. Dean, thankful it was the bathroom door he'd slammed and not the hotel door as he was leaving, gave Castiel a dirty look rather than the tongue-lashing he wanted to. Had he had to get out of bed and go after his brother, Cas would've heard plenty. He became aware of Bobby's steady gaze and turned to look at him.

"What?" Dean demanded irritably. "Cas? Enough, geesch" he knocked Castiel's hand away and sat up.

"You feel better, don't you?" Bobby eyed him with suspicion. "So, Cas can heal you yet can't sense anything wrong, right Cas?"

"I can feel his pain, but that is all, there is nothing else."

"SEE?" Dean shot out. "No one wants to listen to me, migraines are just headaches."

"Okay, agreed, but like Sam says, why now? What is causing them now? And what do we do about them? We can't call Cas every single time you go down and let's be honest here Dean, they take you off your feet." Bobby knew he didn't have Dean's attention because he on the bathroom door. "Give him some time, let him be for now."

"I know, but Bobby, he's barely hanging on…"

"We're going home Dean, once we get there, I will have more access to research, I can call a psychic, voodoo priest, medicine man, anyone I have a number for." Bobby paused. "Maybe you should let Cas take you there. You won't have to ride in the car anymore."

Dean shook his head. "I'm not leaving the car."

"You mean you won't leave Sam. Cas can take him with you, I will follow in your precious car, I'll make arrangements to get mine later."

"No." Dean didn't offer an explanation. He hated Angel-Air. Maybe someday he'd get used to it, but not now. "We'll drive, I'll be ok."

***000***

Two days later, Bobby and Sam sat in the waiting room of a doctor's office. They'd been driving home, only an hour from the house, when Dean begged Sam to pull over. Sam hadn't wanted to, eager to get home, but Dean hadn't been able to hold out. There was no hospital before Sioux Falls and a GPS search for medical facilities had directed them to the doctor's office where they waited.

Bobby hadn't been sure a doctor was necessary, but after thirty minutes of watching Dean lay in the backseat of the Impala with no improvement, Bobby was the first to suggest it. He was tired of seeing the kid suffer and all Dean had done was fight. Fight tears, fight to breathe, fight his stomach, fight not to breakdown and scare the hell outta poor Sam.

"I am here." Castiel appeared in the small waiting room with no regard if anyone had seen him appear out of thin air. He looked around the small room, confused and at a loss. "What are you doing here? Where…is here?"

"No one called you." Bobby said. "How did you find us?"

"You are not marked. You are not hidden from me. Why aren't you home yet? You were headed there two days ago when I left you. I stopped in to see how Dean was doing and no one was home so I found you. Is he worse?"

"He's having another headache." Bobby eyed Sam. "There isn't a hospital nearby but there's here."

"What.. Is.. This… here?"

"It's a doctor's office Cas." Bobby sighed in exasperation. "It should be obvious even to you."

"You brought him here?" here was a small town doctor's office. A semi-retired doctor who had office hours to prescribe antibiotics for the common cold or the flu to regular patients. Maybe a routine checkup or tetanus shot, nothing more serious than that, but at the moment it was all they had. "Willingly?"

The doctor chose that moment to join them. She left the door to the room where she had been with Dean opened and directed her attention to Sam.

"I take it you are Sam?" she said. "Dean's brother."

"Who are you?" Castiel demanded in his superior tone. The doctor paused to give him a look, then rolled her eyes and dismissed him. Castiel was irritated; did she not realize who she was dealing with? Did she not know what all he could to do her with the wave of his hand?

"Dr. Dauphin." she replied "And you are?"

"You are female." he stated the obvious.

"Why yes, yes I am. Thank you."

"And not young."

"The other side of sixty." she agreed. "So, now if you are done with stating the obvious, let's step into the other room. I have some questions for Sam."

"We've answered every question every doctor and specialist has thrown at us." Bobby followed Sam into the room. He didn't appear eager to go in, Bobby had to push him along and keep nudging so Castiel could enter behind them.

"Yes, I've seen the x-rays, the scans, the MRI's, the pictures and read the reports. Dean answered every question I asked him. I also see all the different medications that were prescribed by several different doctors." the doctor took a seat on a stool near the examining table where Dean lay, still fully clothed and by all appearances, asleep.

"He only takes one." Sam said quickly. "I didn't even get most of them filled, just the meds for the migraines, they help but only if he can eat before taking them."

"I know. Were he mixing any of these meds, he'd be somewhere in a coma." she held a clipboard in her hands and searched for a pen. "So, you stated that he suffers from frequent, unexplained headaches, bouts of nausea, dizziness, vomiting, and at times, not all the time, is sensitive to light, noise, smells and motion. He stated he does not like riding in the car, it is at those times, he feels the worse."

"Yeah." Sam agreed. "We always have to pull over, he gets sick, lays down in the backseat and we can continue on, but he's miserable the entire time we're driving."

"Ok Sam, _and only _SAM." a look was leveled on Castiel. "I am going to ask you some questions, some will be personal, others offensive, but bear with me, I assure you, I have a goal. So, ready?"

"Um, yeah, guess."

"You and Dean are brothers. Full or half brothers?"

"Full, why?"

"Same ancestry. Is he or has he ever been married?"

"No"

"Current steady girlfriend?"

"No, he and Lisa broke up like eight months ago or so."

"And how long was he in that relationship?"

"Around a year."

"Has he been sexually active since?"

"Yeah"

"With more than one woman?"

"Yeah"

"With the same woman after his girlfriend for any length of time?"

"No"

"Any men?"

"N…wait, what?" Sam choked out.

"Does he engage in sex with men?"

"No." Oh God. She wasn't going there, was she?

"Has he ever?"

"No." he was blushing. "He….no, no."

"Does he commonly use condoms?"

"Yes."

"Always the same brand? The same kind?"

"Yes."

"To your knowledge, when engaging in sexual relations, is there any anal penetration?"

"I'm gonna say no." he got the words out with a thick tongue and had to clear his throat.

"But it is a possibility?" she pushed.

"No, if you insist…" he shuddered. "No."

"You are sure?"

"Stop it, just stop." Sam looked ready to vomit "No, ok? No, just no."

"You said the headaches started roughly two months ago. Who does he associate with?" she moved on.

"Umm, what?"

"Who does he see on a daily basis? Co-workers? Customers?"

"Me, and….. well, just me, every day anyway."

"No one else?"

"No"

"Have you recently adopted a pet?"

"No."

"Do the two of you sleep together?"

"WHAT!?" god, let the floor open up and swallow him now. "No, I just told you…..NO!"

"Do you share a room?"

"Oh. Um…..motel rooms…." he wiped a hand over his face. "But not a bed." he added quickly.

"Every night?

"Yeah"

"In a house? An apartment? Where does he sleep?"

"Motel mostly."

"So, you haven't spent any length of time in the same place?"

"No, we travel."

"How?"

"How?" Sam repeatedly stupidly, trying to catch up.

"What means of transportation do you travel by?"

"The car."

"Together?"

"Yes."

"So, not always the same motel."

"Rarely for a second night."

"What about your laundry? Where do you normally wash your clothes?"

"Laundromat."

"Do you always use the same detergent?"

"No, whatever the machine dispenses. It's usually Tide."

"But you do your laundry together. Your clothes and his?"

"Yeah, helps make a load."

"Where do you usually eat?"

"Diner, bar, restaurant, whatever is closest to the motel or where ever we are."

"Together?"

"Yeah, most times, yeah."

"So, what you are saying is; he is with you every day, sleeps in the same room with you every night, the two of you eat your meals together, you wash your clothes together, basically, you do everything together, including spending a large amount of time in your car."

"Well, yeah, it's kinda our job."

"This car you travel in, have you had it long?"

"All our lives, it was our dad's."

"What year is it?"

"67."

"And this is the only car you travel in? Always this car?"

"Yes, Dean won't leave it."

"So, you are in it daily?"

"Yes."

"So, nothing in his life is constant except you and this car. Not where he eats, or where he sleeps, not the sheets on his bed or the laundry detergent he uses to wash his clothes. He doesn't see the same people every day or stay in the same place longer than one night." she balanced the clipboard on her knee. "Sam, you had him tested for every aliment, illness and injury known to man, some I wouldn't even have thought of, yet there is no medical condition causing him to be sick."

Sam tensed. He wasn't exactly sure where she was going or what her questions were proving, but he didn't like her tone or the words she was choosing to use.

"What about personal hygiene? Do the two of you share a razor? Deodorant? Soap? Shampoo?"

"No, he uses an electric razor, mine's a blade. We have our own deodorant but share toothpaste and mouth wash. We use the motel soap and shampoo." Sam no longer casually answered her questions; he was alert and searching for her motive.

"Okay, the car, a new air freshener maybe?"

"No."

"How about flowers? A plant? In the car?"

"NO!" he paused, mentally sorting through the ingredients in the hex bags, nothing new; nothing they hadn't been using for over three years. "No." he shook his head. "Nothing."

"What about either of you buying something new lately? A wallet? Shoelaces? A belt? Jewelry?"

Sam had had enough; he pushed away from the wall to pace. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, gritted his teeth to keep his tongue. "NO!"

"Sam, tell me about your day. Tell me what you do in the morning, every morning, don't be upset, but you are the only daily factor I can find in his life…"

Sam slowly turned around, the look on his face caused Bobby to step between him and the doctor.

"Now Sam, hear her out, just relax and answer her questions." Bobby knew he wouldn't be able to soothe Sam should he have a mental meltdown. There was only one person capable of doing that and he was currently asleep. "You can do this, ok, come on." he would have gone over to put a hand on Sam's shoulder, but Sam's defensive posture made Bobby think twice and he stayed where he was.

Sam seethed and struggled for control. Bobby gave him the time but Sam wasn't getting on top of his anger. He turned to pace away from Bobby but Castiel was in his way and when Sam tried to side-step around him, Castiel laid a hand on his shoulder. The contact was instantly comforting and Sam stilled, unable to pull himself away from Cas's touch. Bobby knew the angels touch was both healing and soothing to anyone who felt it, but to see Sam relax under Cas's hand when he had rejected Bobby's was hard to accept.

"I get up, depends on the day or what we did the night before. We tend any injuries, nurse any aches and pains, either I go get food, or he does, usually whoever is up first does. If we're on the road early, we eat on the way. We shower, dress and plan the day. We pack, we clean our weap….um, do job related things, research, go to work if we have a job, drive on to the next one if we don't."

"In the car. Dean's car. Have you recently added anything to the interior of the car? Changed the chemicals you clean it with? Added anything new to the interior? Floor mat, maybe?"

"No."

"And you and Dean haven't changed any personal items lately? No new scents? A new cologne maybe? Aftershave?"

"No."

"You say he's worse in the car, gets sick and you have to pull over, you share a motel room and in both cases, he is closest to you at those times Sam. The times he told me he feels fine, are days when _you_ are mostly outside or in a bar or in a room larger than a hotel room." she paused. "When he was away from _you_. What neither of you say, what I don't hear is that he ever spends any time away from _you_."

"Sam was gone for a while. It took Dean, well it took some time for Dean to get him back, and when he did, Sam wasn't ok. He….you could say he was sick." Bobby said awkwardly. "Sam had some mental issues and he doesn't like to be away from Dean for any length of time."

"Mental issues?" for the first time she looked up. "Were you treated at a facility? Were any medications prescribed? Did you run away from Dean?"

"I was completely sane Bobby, just somewhat emotional." Sam said defensively "And no, I didn't run away from Dean, I didn't want to leave him, I was taken." he glared at Bobby. "No, I wasn't admitted or treated or medicated, I was fine."

"How long have you been back with him?"

"Eight months or so."

"So, for the first six months that you were back, he was fine? No headaches or illness?"

"That's right."

"Sam, I have to ask, are _you trying _to kill your brother?" she didn't back down from the murderous look to cross Sam's face. She only needed to see the stricken look on his face to know her guess was wrong. Castiel was forced to tighten his grasp on Sam's shoulder to keep him from exploding in a rage.

It was the look on Bobby's face that got through Sam's haze of red anger; the utter look of horror, disbelief and shock that Bobby couldn't quite hide. Castiel said nothing, his face was impassive. He simply stood next to Sam with a hand on his shoulder, not restraining, not tightened in anger, just squeezing Sam's shoulder in a comforting way.

"You think I'm doing this to him?" Sam said slowly, wanting to make sure he understood the doctor's accusation. "You think I'm making him sick? Putting him through this on purpose? Why? Why would I do that? For what purpose? To gain what? He's the only person in the world I have left! I would never do anything to hurt him! Not like this! No, no, …just no, you can't be serious, you're not actually suggesting….!"

Bobby staggered backwards a step at the raw emotion in Sam's voice. Sam had no one? Dean was all he had? That hurt. Yes, Bobby was upset that Sam tried to kill him, had yet to work through his feelings, but he in no way wanted Sam out of his life.

"Well then, Sam, talk to me. I can't come to any other conclusion. Every possible explanation has been considered and discarded. That leaves me to guess that he is being poisoned and the only person, by your own admission, who is with him daily and has access to him, is you."

"Sam?" Bobby wasn't sure what else he intended to say, but no further words were necessary because Sam stepped behind Castiel and avoided looking Bobby in the eyes.

"If you seriously think I would do something like this to him, then I don't want you here." Sam's tone held no emotion, it was flat and even, the words simply spoken. "Don't deny it Bobby, I can see it on your face, just… leave, ok? Just leave me alone."

"Dr. Dauphin." Castiel spoke up "You say poisoned, by what? How?"

"Well, has any other doctor mentioned his low blood pressure?"

"No."

"My guess is because it is only low when he has a headache and you have said you've never had him to a doctor while he is suffering from one. I noticed as soon as I saw him that his breathing was rapid, skin clammy. The low blood pressure explains the dizziness. Those symptoms lead me to two conclusions; poisoning or an allergy. I can't come up with anything he might be allergic to. Sam shot down every idea I could think of that might cause such a reaction." she paused. "Has he taken on any new habits? A new food he has taken a sudden like to that he hasn't eaten before?"

"No." Sam rubbed his toe along the floor, head hanging. "We haven't bought anything new, nothing to clean the car or our weapons or to wash our clothes. We don't have any new clothes or shoes or even a book. Everything I do every day is the same thing I have done since I was a kid. I was with him every day of my life for eighteen years. He was the only person I saw most days and our dad started leaving me alone with him when I was two. When he came to college to get me, I was back with him every day again for four years. When he got me back this time, I….well, nothing has changed. Nothing, I swear."

"You say weapons, guns? Knives? Perhaps one was left in a wooded area and you picked up a plant or dirt or a leaf?"

"No."

"You sound adamant?" the doctor said mildly

"We were taught to keep our weapons clean. Our lives depend on it. There are no leaves, dirt, twigs, plants or moss or anything else on any of them." Sam finally found the inner strength to shrug away from Castiel and he moved over to stand next to Dean. He needed to be close to him, close enough that if he needed to, he could reach out and touch him. "I am not doing this. I could never hurt him like this. Cas, god, it isn't me doing this." his voice cracked, no more than a whisper.

That he turned to Castiel for comfort made Bobby short of breath. Castiel didn't know how to offer comfort; he didn't even know what comfort was!

"Sam, I believe you." Castiel said quietly, once again standing beside Sam. "I know what the two of you have been through. I know what you have done to protect him. Whatever is poisoning him, it is not being done intentionally by you."

"I don't believe he is ingesting whatever it is." the doctor finally put the clipboard down and looked up. "There is no swelling or redness in this throat and he doesn't vomit every time. So Sam, let's focus on an allergy. To your knowledge, is he allergic to anything? Has he ever been? Kids often outgrow allergies as they age."

"No, no foods, no medications, no detergents, nothing."

"Take a few moments and let your mind wander, it could be anything Sam, something so small and insignificant that you might not think it even matters. Something as simple as an air freshener in the car. But it would need to be something that is with you all the time, or around him. Let's focus on the car. It is the smallest confined space he is in with you, yet he feels better when he is in the back seat away from you, and not beside you in the front seat. Do you understand my focus on you?"

Sam nodded, looking at Dean as he thought back over the past two months; everywhere they'd been, everything they'd done.. Castiel's hand left his shoulder and two fingers pressed against his forehead. Sam felt the warmth of that touch flow through him and his memories suddenly became more clear and sharper, every detail became vivid, going all the way back to the cabin in the hills, the cabin, Olivia, the cabin, Olivia…and there the memories stopped.

"Oh my god!" Sam paled and his knees buckled. Castiel grabbed him under the elbows to keep him on his feet as the doctor got off her stool and shoved it over with her foot. Castiel guided Sam onto it and squatted down in front of him, one hand on his knee, the other still gripping Sam's elbow.

"Sam? What did you see?" Castiel encouraged.

"Two months ago, we were on a job up in the hills of South Dakota, we ran into a mother and her son, we spent two nights with them in a cabin." Sam tangled his fingers into his hair and tugged. "Olivia had a backpack, I went out into the rain to wash up and she gave me a bottle of shampoo. I really liked it and she told me where to buy it. I bought the conditioner as well. I liked it so much because it smelled like apples." he swallowed hard. "God Cas, I did do this! I made him sick! God, is it killing him? Is he dying?"

"Sam, he is not dying, I would know." Castiel looked at the doctor, almost daring her to disagree.

"Apples." Sam groaned. "It's the apples, he never liked apples, claimed they always made him sick. He can eat apple pie, but not apples."

"Apple seeds are poisonous." the doctor announced. "If he throws an allergic reaction to them, it could very well result in his symptoms. Do you have the bottle? I would like to read the ingredients."

"Um, yeah, out in the car." Sam sighed, digging deep to find the strength to deal with this latest setback. "I'll go get it."

"Let me." Castiel stood up. "I'll be quicker."

"Ok, but at least walk out of here 'til you are out of sight." Sam was reluctant to leave Dean even for the five minutes it would take to walk to the car. "Thanks."

"So, your hair." the doctor was back to writing on her clipboard. "That explains the car, explains why he was fine sometimes and other times, not so much. Bet if you sit and recall as well as you did the past two months, you will come to see that his headaches coincided with every time you washed that mop atop your head. Do you wash it every day?"

"No." those memories wouldn't be coming, at least not in the detail as those he'd just had. Not until Castiel returned, it was his touch that brought forth the memories so vividly.

"Same time on the days you do wash it?"

"No, sometimes, I wash it twice a day, or even three times, depends on the hunt and how, um, dirty we get. I shower in the morning, or during the day or at night, there's no set schedule."

"Do you think he would have used the shampoo?"

"It's the conditioner, he isn't fond of anything apple unless it's in a pie."

"Is it curable?" Bobby asked. "Will this keep happening?"

"Not as long as Sam is willing to give up his shampoo." she cracked a smile. "Sam, honey, Pantene, buy it at any local store." she was writing again. "However, now that his body has reacted to one allergy, there is nothing to say he won't to another. At least, now you know the symptoms. I doubt it will ever be severe enough to lead to anaphylaxis, but on the safe side, how are you with needles, Sam?"

Sam wasn't exactly paying her attention, more or less staring at Dean who was still sleeping peacefully and willing him to wake up.

"Um, I can stitch without leaving much of a scar. I don't like to stitch him up, but I have, I will and I can again, probably will."

The doctor looked at him, startled. "Just what is it you do for a living Sam?" she shook her head, not expecting nor receiving an answer. "Good heavens son, I meant, can you give him a shot?"

"You mean with a needle? Sure, if I have to." he gave it some thought and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Where, exactly?"

She laughed, now writing on a prescription pad. "Relax, his arm, he can do it himself if he wants, some people can't stick themselves. He may never even need a shot, but like a person allergic to peanuts or bee stings, he should carry an epinephrine device. You can choose either an EpiPen and EpiE-Z." she handed Sam several slips of paper. "Get these filled."

"Thanks." he stuffed the papers in a pocket without looking at them.

"You will have some reading to do, where are you going from here? Off the road, I hope, the poor boy needs a couple of days, a week would be better, to get his strength back. Needs good food, decent rest, and most preferably, not in a motel."

"Um, no, no, we're headed home. It's about an hour from here."

"Good, ok, so you know how to fill a syringe?"

"Yeah, so does he."

"Why am I not surprised." she smirked. "Sam, either find a motel and wash your hair or let Dean ride with Bobby or Castiel, it was, right?" she could tell Sam wasn't ok with the idea of letting Dean out of his sight and she waited, ready to push him for Deans benefit.

"Guess Cas can take him." Sam said finally. "What did you give him? He's yet to wake up?"

"Oh, he'll rouse easily, just call to him. Something tells me he's only content cause he knows you're here. I must say Sam, you made my job here pretty easy. You did well with your research. You did all the work for me. Once I knew what all was ruled out and discarded and I realized I didn't have to wait for blood work to come back or to send him to the hospital for all those tests, I could focus on what else might be the problem."

Sam wasn't listening, eager to wake Dean up now that the doctor said he could. He nudged him in the shoulder gently; calling his name once or twice softly was all it took for Dean to stir and murmur a response. Sam let his breath out in relief. He had one hell of a headache of his own due to tension.

"Hey." Sam let him wake up on his own, waiting for his eyes to focus. "Hi."

Dean glanced around; his last clear memory was laying on the backseat of his car, Sam and Bobby peering down at him in concern. He'd wanted to tell them he was ok, to continue to Bobby's house, but his tongue had been glued to the roof of his mouth and when Sam had suggested driving on, all he could manage was the whiney whimper Sam hated so much.

"Again?" Dean identified being with the doctor by the various equipment around the room "Mmm, ow." he rubbed at his forehead, feeling groggy.

"Yeah, again, hey Dean?"

"What? What now Sam?"

"Remember when you were a kid and you didn't want to eat apples? Do you remember why that was?"

"Apples? Seriously Sam? You want to talk about apples? Now?"

"Humor me, why didn't you like apples?"

"I did like apples, I love apple pie, it was just, eating an apple didn't make me feel so good."

"There you go." the doctor said cheerfully. "You, young sir, are allergic to apple seeds."

"I'm what? I haven't been eating any apples."

"No, but your brother has been using a shampoo with apple seed extract. Breathing it in, doesn't do you any good. The scent, the aroma, the smell alone, causes you to throw an allergic reaction so, he promises to buy Pantene."

"Shampoo? I'm allergic to his freaking shampoo?"

"Conditioner." Sam corrected. "Sorry."

"I swear that head of hair causes me more trouble." he slowly sat up catching sight of Bobby. "Hey Bobby." he looked at Sam, realized they were avoiding looking at one another. "Now what?" he so didn't want to deal with this.

"Later." Bobby said. "You can deal with it when you're feeling better."

"Hey Dean, why can't you ever be normal? I mean, if you're going to throw an allergic reaction, why can't you get a rash or break out in hives? Scratch yourself raw itching or even have your throat swell shut, you know? But no, not you, never anything simple with you. You go and get symptoms that have the doctor think I'm trying to kill you. I don't need this, I truly don't"

"I know you don't. Where's Cas? I saw him earlier, didn't I?"

"Yeah, he went out to the car."

"Does he know where to find it?"

"He knows what it looks like."

"Sam, it's Cas, did he walk?"

"Yeah, he's um, gonna take you back to Bobby's ok? The doctor doesn't think you should ride with me until I get my hair washed."

"Um,…." no, it wasn't ok, he did not want to zap anywhere. Why couldn't he just ride with Bobby? He intended to ask that very question but Sam was blinking, looking everywhere within the room except at Dean or Bobby. Dean knew Sam was having a hard time agreeing to let Dean out of his sight even for the hour or so it would take for him to drive the car to Bobby's. Sam wouldn't leave the car because he knew Dean wouldn't want to. "Yeah, Sam, it's fine, you can come with us." he found himself saying instead. "We'll come back for the car."

"The whole point of your friend Cas taking you with him is to avoid being near Sam." the doctor scolded. "Let Sam follow you home."

Sam nodded. "I'm ok with that Dean. Cas will stay with you until I get there and he can make you feel better if he has to."

The doctor raised an eyebrow at that but made no comment. She decided Castiel must either be a doctor or a medical expert and let it go at that. Maybe he was Sam's shrink.

"Ok then." Dean swung his legs off the table and slid to the floor "You sure you're ok going to Bobby's? We don't have to; we can hole up…"

"No." Sam cut him off. "Letting you recover in a motel is going to take longer. You never sleep, never relax, are always on guard, least at Bobby's you feel safe, so it's fine."

Dean stared him down, willing Sam to look at him. He hoped the bad feelings and friction between Sam and Bobby wouldn't last. He was going to have to address it and it would need to be soon. He didn't want to have to choose between the two, but if Bobby gave him no choice, Dean would suck it up and learn to get by in life without the man he both loved and trusted. His brother and his brother's health and mental well-being were more important to him.

"Call Cas then."

Sam nodded, relieved his brother was going to be ok, grateful what they found wrong was a simple problem. He couldn't go through losing his brother again. He wasn't able to. All he wanted to do now was watch Dean sleep. Sleep without pain, sleep without anything to worry about other than what he wanted for his next meal.

"Since you only live an hour away, I want to see him next week." Dr. Dauphin said. "So, bring him back on Wednesday, and Sam? Get some sleep; you don't look like you are capable of doing much more than driving home."

"Thanks doctor." Sam gave her a slight smile. "I'll bring him back."

*** END ***


End file.
